In 2002, at the age of 24, out of work and in financial straits, I went to the job office at the Manhattan School of Music, to which I had access as an alumni. They had a listing for a part-time personal assistant position to a "legendary pianist" of which, at the time, I was unfamiliar, (ashamedly). At the time Rosalyn Tureck was living on the upper east side of Manhattan. I arranged for an appointment, met her at her apartment, went over my resume with her, and discussed the nature of the work the position entailed -- helping her to organize her writings, documents and files, occasional errands, assistance around the house... I was desperate and accepted immediately, not knowing yet just how fortunate I was to come so close into contact with one of the greatest pianists that ever lived. Soon thereafter she moved to Riverdale, NY, and I continued helping her until later that year, at which point I became busier again with my main means of employment as an executive assistant to the artistic director of Milken Archive of Jewish Music. Working for Rosalyn was not easy. She was in poor health and the mood in her top floor apartment became oppressive at times, especially after the long commute there and the sweltering summer heat. Nevertheless, it was inevitable we began discussing and sharing feelings and experiences on music, and a spiritual kinship was soon to develop between us that is hard to describe. I started listening to recordings of hers, especially an early recording of the Goldberg Variations, and I would often call her to express what it was doing to me, playing things for her over the phone, describing to her what I was then working on because of it... But now I remember vividly: Rosalyn on a recliner on her balcony overlooking the Hudson River, saddened by poor health and a long life behind her in which she felt no one could fathom just how deeply she understood Bach and piano playing in general. At one point she even said she may as well jump from the balcony... It was difficult to know what to say at such times. I could only express to her how much I sensed from her playing and how much it was coming to mean to me. She was also then beginning work on an autobiography of sorts, having difficulty setting up her computer, and I would do what I could to help her get things set up properly as she would rest on her bed... Her files were vast and contained research and memorabilia of all kinds, and I was always intrigued to see what she would hand me and describe. Eventually though, the work truly became draining emotionally, sometimes her temper could be quite challenging, and then I found it increasingly difficult to offer my services. She sensed this I think and eventually our communication just sort of faded out. I felt bad about it and guilty because of her condition which appeared to be worsening by the times of my last visits. It was then in 2003 I remember one day receiving a flood of thoughts and feelings about her, wondering how she was, sensing things must be beyond what I could imagine, and then it was the next day I found out she had just died. Over the years since I have made it my duty to immerse myself in her recordings, to penetrate to the essence of her playing to the best of my ability, to meditate on the gratefulness I have for having known her and become introduced to her music through her on a scale of which will forever be beyond me in its personal proportions. By the forces that be, this life brought us together and I did what I could for her at the time we were together. I will never forget her...